


Not Right

by NebulousNonsense



Category: Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball GT
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dragon Ball GT - Freeform, Gen, Kinda, also: god i love me some Dragon Ball GT, and not an empty punching machine, but gets old even for him, depends on how much you read into Goku as a character, friendly reminder that Goku's a character with thoughts and feelings, idk i always found it funny how Goku took being changed into a kid so well, if only we really got to see it, probably something that's fun in the moment, really wish Pan's character was developed more, the dynamic on that year-long trip must've been a sight to behold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:40:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25752967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NebulousNonsense/pseuds/NebulousNonsense
Summary: A look into the fact that after being a grown adult for most of your living memory, being shrunk to a four-foot nothing, baby-faced kid probably is one of the weirder experiences of your life.It certainly makes being taken seriously more of a challenge.A look into the inner happenings of Goku's brain, Pan's definitely a child still, and Trunks and Goku have a chat.Check me out over on Tumblr atNebulous-Nonsense!
Relationships: Son Goku & Son Pan, Son Goku & Trunks
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	Not Right

It’s strange, being a child again. Going with the flow is what Goku does, but there’s usually a point of reference he can use; an experience he can draw from to make his patience a little more hardy when the well starts to run dry.

He remembers a good amount of his childhood, for all the fifty-some years it’s been since Bulma literally crashed her way into his life. Grandpa tried to teach him about the world outside of their little hut, but it really didn’t measure up to the real thing. Everything was bright and new and golden. New people and new sights and a great big world to explore. 

But then, he actually  _ was  _ a kid. He might still have the pure heart of one, but even though Vegeta calls him an idiot every time they have a conversation, he’s not that either. A little dumb, maybe. Slow sometimes, sure. But not stupid, and definitely not a child. 

“Aw, dearie. Are you lost? Where are your parents?” Trunks took Pan to find toiletries and cleaning supplies, and Giru’s in charge of watching the ship. When they finally found a patch of land to, well,  _ land _ on, they caught something eyeing them from within the vast oceans that blanket most of this planet. Naturally, that left Goku on food duty. He might not know numbers, but he knows how to find the best food at the best prices. 

Plus, worst comes to worst, he can always hunt for stuff. He’s passed plenty of forest and beach land on his way into town— something has to be edible in there. 

“My parents aren’t here, ma’am. But I’m not lost— I wanna trade.” Giru mentioned something about bartering being the currency here, according to the information in his banks. Goku didn’t catch much of it, too focused on watching shadowed shapes swimming in the water, but he heard enough. 

Guess it’s a good thing they picked up a bunch of gold a few stops back. Who knew gold could be more common than water on some planets?

The stall owner clicks her mandibles three times, compound eyes dimming. “Aw, I’m sorry hun, but I can’t.” She taps a sign in a language Goku can’t even begin to read. “I’m not allowed to trade with anyone underage without supervision. Island rules.”

“It’s a good thing I’m not a child then!” He gives her his biggest grin, trying his best to make it sincere even though he’s tried, and failed to, convince the last four stall owners the same. He thought he’d have better luck with a less humanoid being, but it doesn’t seem he’s hit a spot of fortune yet.

Her antennae twitch. “Is this a trick question? Smaller humanoids are the younger ones, yes? Do you have any ID?”

Of course he doesn’t. He only got an official birth certificate back on Earth when Chi-Chi found out he didn’t have one before they got married. “No, sorry. I don’t. I’m not from around here.” It’s not like he had to carry around a wallet while on the Lookout. “Well, thanks anyway.”

“Maybe try the next island over? Sorry again.”

That’s usually how these exchanges go— lots of sorries on both ends. Guess he’ll head off into the woods. Can’t get bread or drinks out there, but he won’t come back empty handed. 

The planet is, at least, very pretty. There’s not a cloud in slight in the vast blue sky, and the green waters are crystal clear— clear enough to see the plants and animals living in the shallow parts. It’s almost like if Master Roshi’s Island was a hundred times bigger— a little bit of paradise. Chi-Chi would love it. Maybe, just maybe, if things go right and they get back home in time, he’ll ask Bulma if he can borrow the ship to take Chi-Chi here. 

He feels like he should do something for her. Being turned into a child again is nice for him, but thinking back on it, no wonder Chi-Chi was so upset. It would wig him out if she was suddenly physically twelve too. 

“Little boy, wait! Stop!” Goku continues walking, hands hooked behind his neck. They can’t mean him, right? “Little boy! Hey kid!” Right? “Kid, I said  _ stop _ !”

Wrong. 

Goku pauses, leg outstretched for the next step, frozen in motion. He turns on his heel, checking behind him. 

Oh. 

Oh no. 

Two tall beetle people, one like a spotted Junebug and the other the biggest Potato Beetle he’s ever seen hurry towards him. The Junebug’s one arm reaches for him, the other three swinging at her side. 

“Thank goodness we caught up to you!” The Junebug shouts, huffing and puffing. The sun gleams off of her iridescent carapace, and Goku might have to rethink bringing Chi-Chi here. Who knows how she’ll react to bug people. On closer inspection, the sun also gleams off of a metal badge pinned to a vest draped around her body. 

“Yeah, kid, we heard reports of a little humanoid wandering around trying to trade. If you’re lost, you should say something!” The Potato Beetle rubs his feelers together, antennae folding back. There’s a similar badge hung around a chain on his neck. 

Goku reigns back a sigh, stops himself from frowning. It doesn’t help that he can imagine Vegeta dying of laughter, tossing aside his dignity to  _ howl _ , hunched over and clutching his stomach. “I’m not lost. I know exactly where I’m going.”

“And where would that be—“ the Potato Beetle clicks his mouth, making a completely indecipherable noise. It doesn’t sound rude, but the way his partner looks at him doesn’t make it nice either. 

“The forest. Since no one’ll sell me food, I’m gonna go catch stuff.”

Bug people don’t have skin to flush, but they both recoil back. “Are you nuts! You are  _ not _ going in there! No way no how! It’s dangerous in there! You couldn’t pay me to go in there!”

“Kid, you  _ can’t _ ! You’re going to come with us until we can find your parents and get you back home.”

Home is a billion light-years away. Home is going to be blown up in under a year. Home definitely isn’t anywhere these people can comprehend. 

But that’s fine. This is fine— they have enough time in the bank to be able to flush a day down the toilet. He really hates the idea of getting arrested, but he hates the idea of upsetting these people just trying to do their jobs even more. 

“C’mon kid.” The Junebug pats Goku on the back, giving him the closest thing to a mammalian smile she can. It’s disturbing, but the effort’s there. That’s worth something in his book. “We’ll even feed you, if you’re that hungry.”

That’s worth even more. 

—

Goku kicks his legs back and forth, leaning back against the stone wall. His feet dangle a good six inches off the floor— hello not being able to reach the floor, his old friend. 

They, the bug police, sat him down in the lone empty cell in the island’s only deputy office. They were kind enough to leave the cell door unlocked, and kinder still in giving him a basket of fruit he can chew on to his heart’s content. 

Not that locking the door will do much if Goku wants out, but it’s the thought that counts.

He tears into a strange purple and blue fruit, seeds popping between his teeth. It’s a mix between an apple and an orange— isn’t there a saying about not being able to compare the two? Citrusy and tart and very, very good. Nothing can ever stop food from tasting good, but the more Goku thinks, the less he can focus on the flavor. 

Normally, he isn’t one to worry. Normally, people think worrying isn’t something he’s capable of. Normally, the planet isn’t in danger of exploding. There’s not a monster he can fight or a guy aiming to take over the universe or a mad incarnation of evil. 

Nope. Just a race against time. Time is the one thing he can’t catch. Unless you count punching a clock, but that wouldn’t solve anything. 

Anxiety comes to Goku as naturally as walking does a fish, but he knows what it feels like— the starting of a heart disease gripping his chest, the overwhelming power of Super Sayain leaving him shaky and exhilarated. Walking up to Cell, taking him with into the afterlife, well aware that it was the last thing he’d ever do alive again. 

He was wrong, at least. He did it with a smile, but that didn’t make it any better. Not really. 

The door to the cell opens, gently bumping against the concrete walls. So Trunks didn’t bring Pan with him. Goku... Goku appreciates that. More than he’d care to admit. 

“Really, Goku? I leave you alone for five minutes and this is what happens— you know you can’t wander off like this.” Trunks has his arms crossed, chest puffed out and voice firm. He’s the spitting image of Bulma, and Goku knows exactly how much he’d hate to hear it. It’s not hard seeing how much Trunks hates doing it. 

Goku plasters on his largest grin, squinting his eyes and kicking his feet back and forth. “Ah well, you know me, Trunks. I can’t help it.”

Trunks rolls his eyes, half for the act and half in honest exasperation. He suppresses a smile and isn’t near as successful in it as he thinks he is. “I’m sorry officers— we’re not from around here and he’s just so curious.”

Goku hears the nearby click of mandibles, but the Junebug’s out of sight. “I have little clutch mates too. Trust me, I get it. Just be more careful, yes?”

“Will do, officers. Thank you again for finding him,” Trunks bows low, lifting up to gesture at Goku. “C’mon,  _ bro _ , your, ah,  _ sister _ is waiting for us to get back.”

Goku’s grin slips, twitching down for a split second. “M’kay!”

Pan isn’t going to be happy. 

—

As it turns out, she isn’t. Pan’s fury reaches a boiling point, the culmination of misplaced irritation and months of stress and worry. Goku sits through it with a smile, because what else is he going to do? She needs this, even if he doesn’t. She’s still young, and she’s had a lot put on her, even if she did ask for it by sneaking on for a “space adventure.” 

Goku’s willing to be a verbal punching bag, despite the fact his muscles itch for a fight. 

“ _ Ugh, _ I can’t take this anymore! I’m going to bed. Don’t wander off again,  _ Grandpa _ !” Pan storms down to the lower deck, Giru floating behind her. 

Goku waits until her footsteps disappear. Waits until her Ki signature dips low and smooth and out of spiky, dangerous waters. Waits until her Ki  _ stays _ that way for a good few minutes. 

He sighs, leaning back and dragging his hand down his face. It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s  _ fine.  _

It’s fine. 

It’s so fine, in fact, that he flinches when Trunks pats him on the shoulder, sitting down on the bench next to him. He hands Goku a bowl of rice and beef-adjacent meat topped with an egg with a bright green white. “We had time to stop by and pick up supplies. Not a lot, but we should be good until the next planet.”

Goku starts inhaling his food, not stopping until every grain is in his stomach. He honestly forgot how quickly he got hungry as a kid. The appetite stayed, but the constant pang in his stomach didn’t. He won’t miss it when it’s gone the second time, either. 

“That’s good,” Goku says, setting the bowl aside. “The next planet is about a week away, right?”

Trunks scratches his chin, eyes narrowed while his brain runs numerous calculations at once. He has on a white tank top and a pair of Capsule Corp stamped boxers, both covered in various dark oil and grease stains. “I think. Something like that.”

Goku hums, tapping his foot on the ground. It pat, pat, pats against the metal. Trunks intended to bring him food and leave him to his own devices, but Goku’s seemed... off, today. “Are you alright?”

“Me?”

“No, Pan. Yes, I mean you.”

Goku grins, but like each of his expressions today, it’s... strained. Trunks would go as far as to say forced, even. It’s strange. “I’m fine!”

“You don’t seem fine. You seem like the opposite of fine.”

Trunks has come to expect a lot of things from Goku, but it shocks him when Goku’s grin crumbles to ash and a very, very foreign, pensive look replaces it. “Is it that obvious?”

Trunks huffs, half a laugh, half a sigh. He really shouldn’t find this funny, but it’s hard when a pensive, thoughtful Goku breaks everything he’s ever known to shards. “Yeah. Pan might not notice it, but I’m not Pan.”

“Y’know, Bulma always knows when something’s up, too. Chi-Chi’s pretty good at figuring it out, but Bulma  _ always _ does.”

That’s Bulma for you. Trunks’ mother is many, many things, but tactful isn’t one. Shrewd, on the other hand, is, and she cites that as one of the reasons his father fell for her. Extremely clever and never afraid to speak her mind makes for an interesting combination. He inherited exactly one of those things on a good day, and exactly both on a bad. 

“Do you... do you want to talk about it?”

Goku swings his feet, fingers gripping the edge of the bench. He stares ahead, deep in thought. He’s the picture of calm, loose and outwardly relaxed. Trunks almost gets up, but he stays put. If something has Goku truly thinking, it’s probably worth a listen. 

_ Tap _ . 

_ Tap tap _ .

_ Tap tap.  _

_ Tap.  _

“I think it’s easy to forget that I’m not actually a kid.”

With how abruptly the silence breaks, it takes Trunks a moment to process. 

“Sometimes it is,” Trunks starts, choosing his words carefully. Words roll off Goku’s back like water off of a duck’s back. Still, he doesn’t want to overstep his boundaries. “But it also isn’t.”

Goku laughs, bitter and dark as coffee made with vinegar. It is, by far, the most unsettling sound Trunks has ever heard. “I spent six hours today trying to find a person to trade with. I couldn’t. It’s been like this all year— not being able to do things I should, being treated with oven mitts.”

Oh.  _ Oh. _ Trunks could slap himself. So that’s why Goku is abnormally tight-lipped about his ventures into town, and why more often than not he comes back with an entire forest’s worth of food, literally. “And Pan hasn’t been helping, has she?” Not with constantly berating him about his behavior and the troubles arising from it.

Goku shakes his head, and when he looks at him, Trunks can see every year of life in Goku’s eyes. “She’s just a kid, and it’s not like I don’t understand.” He shrugs, “I can be childish. And a little stupid.”

He’s right. Of course he is, but he’s not  _ right. _ “Pan might be bossy and, uh, abrasive, but I’m sure if you talked to her—“

Goku cuts him off. “It’s alright, Trunks. Really. I can’t fix,” he gestures to himself, “and Pan’s still learning. I was a handful at ten, and I  _ know _ you were.”

The stab of humor isn’t lost on Trunks, but he sputters some. “We don’t need to bring me into this conversation! And this isn’t about me, it’s about you!”

Goku huffs, red herring completely obliterated. “I really thought that would work.”

It would have, but Trunks has experience with people weaseling out of conversations they don’t want to be in. And by people, he means his dad. And his mom. And Goten. And basically everyone he knows. But mostly his dad.

Trunks sighs. “I didn’t think it bothered you that much.”

“People don’t think anything bothers me. They’re only  _ usually _ right.”

Trunks has the nasty suspicion that he might have to include himself in that category too. “I could—“ Could what? Go on supply runs with him? Talk to shop owners and merchants in his steed? Fight his battles for him? The solution to a loss of independence sure as hell isn’t tossing away what little left there is. 

“I’m sorry,” Trunks says instead. 

Goku smiles, small and sincere and dry. “S’not your fault.”

No, it’s not, but if Trunks had noticed sooner he could have done something.

Goku slides off the bench, landing on his feet. Trunks quickly got used to the fact Goku only comes up to his hips, but now that fact flies back into his face with a vengeance. 

“Thanks for the talk, Trunks, but think I’m gonna head off to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Trunks scrambles to find something to say— something to reassure Goku or, or  _ something, _ but by the time Trunks’s mouth catches up to his brain, Goku is long gone. 

If there’s one thing Trunks has learned tonight, it’s that he has a lot to think about. 


End file.
